Human Waste
by Eliador
Summary: Three months after Lila’s and Doakes' deaths Dexter is on the move again. While he watches from the shadows, he’s being watched too. When Dexter falls in a deadly trap will he find a way to stay alive? B-read by yayme2012. B-read by beth9874 from chap.7
1. Prologue

**HUMAN WASTE**

**Prologue**

It is said that the mind has a special way of treating addiction. If a small quantity is enough and the level of satisfaction it produces is high at first, as one keeps on experimenting, playing, the need for more and more grows; till humanity's essence itself ceases to truly exist.

Often killers are said to be compulsive addicts. They act by instinct, devoid of feeling. They're mere creatures craving for fulfilment.

---------------

He was a cruel rapist. Once he had chosen his prey, he would loom about till the opportunity to overtake her presented itself – like it always did. He entered his victims' house uninvited in the small hours of the night, finding them asleep. Soon they were tightly bound. And then he proceeded with that one form of torture that could damage a woman's spirit beyond all that was humanly endurable.

He wore a condom, he wore gloves. He even shaved his body. He always covered his hair.

He tied them down, preventing them from scratching him.

He was clever and for at least fourteen times he had committed his crime of choice without leaving any physical evidence behind. Not one of his victims had been able to come up with a usable description – despite the fact that he had never covered his face. He didn't have to. What were the chances of them ever seeing him?

He enjoyed himself immensely.

---------------

All went well until that night, the night when he attacked Amy Dark. Unseen to him as he posed himself over the woman, there was a small mirror half covered by a blanket.

In the full moon, with the little light provided by the street lights entering the window, Amy was able to see his hideous face distorted in the heat of his passion. In those long minutes, Amy had been only half conscious. Still, while she felt him holding her tight, breathing repulsively against her neck, Amy marked his features vividly in her mind. She stared and stared in awe trying to remember every little detail.

And as the pain and the spiritual suffering became too hard to bear, she finally closed her eyes and let herself grow faint, slipping in a world of darkness she couldn't really tell if she had imagined or not. And then there was one last groan before he collapsed over her and went still.

Soon after he got up and took everything with him, it seemed...

He had committed a fatal mistake – he had left Amy one last parting gift: the memory of his dreadful face.

---------------

Three years ago Timothy Pierce had been taken into custody, accused of having raped Amy Dark. The detectives had interrogated him restlessly for many hours.

Without any physical evidence to support Amy Dark's claim, or any other victim of the vicious rapist able to provide a truthful description; with nothing tying him to the victims and with a strong alibi, Timothy Pierce walked free.

Whether Timothy Pierce was guilty or not, no such M.O. had been used again. The police left the case opened, because Timothy or whoever the perpetrator might be might slip and fall into old habits.

For all that knew him, Timothy Pierce, in his early 30's, was a nice and gentle young man, with much to offer to Miami's society. He didn't mistreat anyone, he helped his fellow citizens.

Meanwhile, unseen to everyone around him, Timothy Pierce's violence escalated, reaching a new cycle. One of torture, murder, butchering and disposal of body parts in the depths of the Everglades. He had learned his lesson: now there would be no one left that could identify him.


	2. Mask of Humanity

**Mask**** of Humanity**

He wanted to reinvent himself somewhat. Killing Lila hadn't been hard, it had come naturally, but Doakes' death had struck a cord within him and set it vibrating in a different frequency.

_Almost three months. _

_Almost three months since I killed Lila. Since Doakes' death. _

_I'm finally beginning to breathe in…freedom. _

---------------

Another hot day in Miami. Even now, as the sun was setting, Dexter was feeling his soaked shirt clinging uncomfortably to his torso.

He had left his office a while ago. After running some errands, his steps led him to Camilla. A couple of days ago, Dexter had asked her to try and find a really juicy case-file, one of those files that inevitably set his blood on fire – not that he would ever let Camilla know about that particular detail. For her, as for his sister and some others, Dexter was a clever scholar of the human nature. His power of deduction and inspired theories were highly taken into consideration – and that was all.

He was a clever technician; a clever investigator. Why would someone have to know about the morbidity behind it all? Why would anyone have to know that, behind his mask of humanity, there was a killer constantly looking for a new prey, choosing his hunt through paperwork as one might choose some clothing item from a sales' catalogue.

_My private catalogue. _

_It would be too cruel and cold-hearted to refer to Camilla as my sponsor, but she is vital – no deny__ing that._

He should probably have stopped for doughnuts before coming, but he was in a bit of a hurry, having to squeeze that visit between work and visiting Rita and the kids.

He grabbed the file he had dropped on the passenger's seat and, composing his face and setting in place his best winning smile, he stepped out of the car.

Some seconds passed, and soon he was walking down a familiar corridor. His smile broadened when he saw the top of the familiar round head peeping over the counter.

Dexter approached slowly, taking his time studying the older woman.

"Hello! You look absolutely lovely this afternoon."

"Dexter! If you keep on lying like that, God will surely deny your entry in Heaven, you know."

Dexter chuckled before winking at the woman.

"That's why I never lie."

"You should visit more often – you brighten the days of this old lady. I think I can easily guess what brings you here – empty-handed I see."

Dexter settled the case-file he had been holding over the counter.

"I am sorry. I thought of stopping and buying you a treat, but I wanted to see you so badly. Forgive me?"

"Sure, sure. You're as charming, if not even more charming than _he _was."

"Harry?"

"Yeah, your father was a true gentleman."

Dexter chuckled.

"Now you're going over the top. He might have been a gentleman, but I'm just a clueless guy – a lab rat."

Camilla held his gaze for some seconds and then scanned him teasingly.

"I don't think I know too many clueless lab rats that look like this. You're far too modest."

"Now you're making me blush. Quite unfair if you ask me. That's my job here."

Camilla winked.

"Relax, you do it very well. If I weren't married… Well, anyway, I don't think you've come here just to flirt with me."

"Camilla, you know you're the queen of my heart, but I must confess…"

Camilla's eyes shone brightly as she giggled. She dropped a thin case-file over the counter.

"Well, as you requested, I have something here for you. The question is: what will I gain in exchange?"

"You do know how to melt the toughest man".

"Flattery will get you everything you want." Camilla paused and watched Dexter opening the case-file and taking a look at the first page. "I think you're going to love that. No conviction. For a while the District Attorney directed his efforts towards breaking this one suspect. If you ask me, he seemed like a really nice young man – much as yourself, Dexter. But one never really knows."

_Lovely._

Camilla smiled warmly. "I do know about you, dear Dexter – you wouldn't harm a fly."

_Sweet clueless Camilla._

Dexter winked. "Don't take me for a saint, I'm quite daring."

Camilla chuckled. "Sure you are." Finally she picked up the case-file on the counter.

"So? What did you think about the last one?"

"Hmm, to be honest, I thought it was a good investigation's work. Nothing interesting about it, though. It all seems pretty clear."

"Ah. You didn't form one of your theories, then?"

Dexter shrugged.

"Sorry, no." Dexter tapped his fingers on the counter. _Will it be too impolite if I leave right now? I've got to hurry in any case…She understands. _Dexter smiled"I'm really sorry Camilla, but now I really have to go…"

"Yeah, I had better get back to work too. Stop by again soon and with a little more time!"

Dexter saluted.

"Sure thing. I'll be sure to bring you a treat too!"

Once he was out of the building, his face lost all cheerfulness, and his smile was replaced by an empty gaze.

_I hope this proves__ more interesting a reading than the last one._

Dexter started the car, his gaze unfocused for a little while.

_Where to?__ You know where. _Dexter shrugged.

He couldn't explain why he felt driven to that site so often as of late. What morbid sensation could it be? Maybe because Doakes seemed to understand…somewhat…

It wasn't so much that he had lost control over his _feelings_, like a normal human being might – he had no feelings. He still felt the same urges, with renewed intensity, actually.

_If I didn't know myself better I'd say I feel guilty. But how could I? I didn't ask Lila for any favour, and I did__n't participate directly in the matter…it was beyond my control._

_Don't let yourself be fooled, will you?! The cemetery is the quietest place one can find for reading._

_If only things were that simple. I'm not a monster._

He had reached his destination without really having taken notice of the entire drive.

_Funny. I barely remember leaving Camilla. I guess letting my mind wonder at times can't be that bad__. I have to be careful why, when, and where, though…_

Dexter rested his hands on the wheel for a short while and sighed, slowly releasing the air from his lungs. Thirty seconds went by before Dexter finally grabbed his cell phone and exited the vehicle.

He had parked as close as possible to Doakes' gravestone.

_I wonder. I__sn't it appropriate to say that you're probably rolling in your grave? I'm very sorry, I do – did – respect you, sergeant, but I have to make good use of my time and to cover my tracks._

_I might as well pass as a sentimental fool – I can live with that. Hell, didn't I take cover under the pretence of being an addict? Which I actually am… But being labelled as a twisted killer? I'm not sure I can "live" with that one._

Dexter walked slowly toward a bench. Before he sat down, he dropped his bag on the floor. Once he was settled as comfortably as possible, with his dark shades protecting his eyes against the still strong rays of the almost setting sun, he opened the bag and held the new case-file.

_Let this be the one._

_I'm sick. I'm a sick, twisted being. I'm aware of that – but it feels so long since I last killed._

At that time of day there was no one in sight. Strangely, or perhaps not – Dexter was a compulsive planner – he had never met Laguerta or anyone else for that matter visiting that grave. Focusing on his reading, Dexter lost track of time; until he heard his name spoken by that familiar voice and almost jumped off his skin.

"Dexter?!"

In one swift movement Dexter managed to rise and turn to face the woman, letting the file drop inside his bag just as the woman reached him.

"Lieutenant Laguerta! I didn't expect to see you here!"

_Dammit._

The woman raised her eyebrow.

"That's my line, Dexter. Do you come here often?"

Dexter kicked his bag discreetly so as to make sure not even a millimetre of the case-file cover was visible.

"I come here at times…I had a great deal of respect for Sergeant Doakes, despite what came to pass between us."

"I see… Funny, I didn't take you for the sentimental type, though…"

Dexter managed to smile while a heavy drop of sweat ran down his forehead.

_There's something unsettling about her expression. Could she be…suspicious?_

"I don't consider myself to be the sentimental type either, Lieutenant."

Dexter opened wide his eyes.

"I suppose it must be…shock?!" At that he looked into Maria Laguerta's eyes.

The woman smiled sadly.

"I understand you. I'm sorry if I sounded too inquisitive. I thought that you, like your sister, were convinced of his guilt."

_Is this a test?_

Dexter shrugged and grabbed his bag, placing the strap on his shoulder.

"We're all guilty of something. It doesn't necessarily make us evil. I don't consider myself qualified enough to decide on his guilt. The whole thing was quite a shock. What I do know is what little I've learnt through the years. Sergeant Doakes was a tough man, I know he disliked me, and he had his own personal reasons for it, I'm sure. But he didn't deserve to go down like this in any case…"

Laguerta turned her back on Dexter and faced her friend's gravestone.

"He was a good man."

_Yeah, twist and sick enough, but still a good man__. Aren't we all in someone's eyes?_

Dexter could hear her sob.

"Well, I was just leaving." He hesitated long enough to be tasteful. "Goodbye, Lieutenant."

_If it had been me, would I have someone crying over my grave? Debra, Rita?_

Maria Laguerta didn't turn at once.

"Talk to you tomorrow, Dexter."

Dexter started walking away deliberately slowly.

_I really wished I found this __somewhat amusing. My nemesis is dead – his lips forever sealed. But I just don't…_

"Dexter?"

He turned and faced the woman's sad expression.

"Thank you…"

"W…wel…come…"

It was with great relief that Dexter reached his car and started the engine.

_No need to thank me…_

_We all wear masks that hide our deepest thoughts – especially from the ones we feel closer to. We either have the humanity to face our failures or we wear a mask of humanity. The end result is the same: all people crave for comfort. _

There was still a lot to decide, a lot to plan. Some time would come to pass between his drive home and the next moment of fulfilment. Nevertheless, the moment would come and that was what mattered.

Thinking of it carefully, Dexter was – dare he think it? – amused at the whole scenario; as to how the afternoon had unfolded: these last moments had lacked the slightest amusement, but all in all…

_Thank you, Lieutenant Laguerta._

Dexter still felt… confused hardly described it. More like confronted with immense possibilities. That might be a satisfactory explanation, but at least he was sure of one thing already.

_This is the one. __This is the next one._


	3. A Killer's Instinct

**A K****iller's Instinct**

_**Two**__** weeks later**_

_There's an old saying: keep your friends clo__se and your enemies even closer: don't get caught. _

_I've been following him for a while now. It's of extreme importance to separate the guilty from the innocent; there can be no hesitations on the last moment. Everything has to be carefully studied and planned._

Presently Dexter was focusing his full attention on the apparent model citizen: Timothy Pierce. He had had a run with the law three years ago. There had been a raping spree and he had been one of the people to be interrogated about it. There had been no evidence to tie him to the crimes, apart from the testimony of a traumatised eye witness.

Dexter had studied his file. Verdict: _Guilty. _

_So far it seems he has stopped, but can a rapist truly stop? Is there something I'm not seeing? In any case I can't let him walk free. He has to pay for what he did to all those women, especially Amy Dark, whose word wasn't given any credit. Timothy has to die._

-------------------------------

Dexter had just finished having lunch. On his way back to his office he stopped on the parking lot to pick up his bag. He had been out most of the morning trying to collect blood samples at a crime scene, and had simply parked before going to grab a bite. He hadn't collected any samples after all – the feds had arrived and taken care of business.

_It's all right. As fascinating as blood and blood anal__ysis_ _might be the particular case didn't seem all that interesting._

He had his own fascinating case to investigate.

_An uneventful day – an uneventful week: playing hide and seek has never been all that entertaining, and as days go by I begin feeling…_

_Restless._

Lost in his thoughts Dexter entered the building and walked to the elevator. He entered and pressed the button to his floor.

"Hold it!!"

Dexter outstretched his hand and held the door with a small sigh.

_Hope it isn't someone I'm supposed to be friendly with.__ A side effect from restlessness – boredom._

"Dexter!!"

_Deb._

"Hey."

"So, I heard they stepped all over your toes."

Dexter raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Oh? Well I'm kind of relieved. This would probably turn into one of those cases that drag for months and make me testify the same thing half a dozen times before some judge is done with it."

Debra stared at her brother for some seconds in silence.

"You're awfully silent today."

Dexter smiled teasingly. "As opposed to my usual talkative self?"

Debra grinned.

"Yeah. Is something bothering you?"

_Just some guy that I'm chasing. I really want to kill him but I have yet to find the best spot to corner him.__ On the good side I've managed to track him down and follow him all over town – all in all: he's mine._

"Nothing." Dexter sighed and focused on an invisible spot on the opposite wall. "Just tired, I guess."

Debra smiled devilishly. "Is Rita keeping you _that_ busy?"

"Not really…I've been busy this week…catching up on some…reading…"

"Are you for real?"

Dexter smiled innocently before looking into his sister's eyes.

"I could choose something worse, no?"

_Killing and dismemberment?_

At that moment the elevator stopped.

"Later, geek!"

"Later!"

_Was it too poor an excuse?_

_D__o I come out as too foreign an entity in this world that seems to revolve around the concept of equality? _

_I look at them, all of them, and all I see are bees – not in a truly __contemptuous way; it's not like I consider myself better or worse that the average human being, but they seem so focused in looking, sounding and feeling all the same. Too often does the collective thought suppress the individual one – these are the labour workers whose sole purpose is to show their devotion - feeding and nurturing the hive's queen._

"Dexter!"

_Angel._

"Hello, buddy."

_I once told Angel that if I were to __name the one person I would like to be like it would be him._

"Hello, Angel."

"I heard that you lost the case to the feds, carpet pulling and all."

"You win some, you lose some. That's how it is."

Angel patted Dexter in the back.

"So true; so very true."

_Two more steps and I'll be in the silence of my office. _

"Later, Angel!"

"Hey, Dexter, don't forget about tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Bowling, buddy, bowling."

"Oh…right."

_Dammit. I had completely forgotten. I had made quite different plans for tonight. __Well, one night won't make that much of a difference._

Once inside, Dexter shut the door, closed the blinds and started his laptop. He organised his work table, set the clocks running, collected the samples, put the machinery working. And then, with a heavy sigh he sat down.

-------------------------------

The day worn off slowly; it had been pleasant. No one had really bothered him, and for once, Masuka hadn't burst into his office with some new sex revelation.

_Time to get ready for another empty night. _

_Universe__: 1 – Dexter: 0. _

_**The**__** following night**_

Today of all days Dexter had experienced the bliss that accompanies the feeling of control: being in control of oneself, having one purpose. The head feels clear; the mind is set and unshaken.

_There's no happine__ss, no sadness – just existence and self-preservation._

This was more than the mere taste of freedom. This was exhilarating.

_On the hunt again – with no worries, just the hunter and the prey, just focusing on the chase. This is life._

Turning off his computer Dexter indulged in a _happy_ thought all his – he smiled.

_This time bodies won't start pilling up like before. I won't be caught – no, better yet, I won't come to dread being caught. _

He finally left the office.

_I haven't __been all that active lately. My day life is catching up with me, but not tonight – tonight's all mine._

_Finally._

_It has been tedious – using all subtlety, being as careful as possible, taking no chances – so that no one can form some sort of bridge between me and my old alter-ego. _

Dexter was still smiling as he waved his colleagues farewell; still smiling when he reached the parking lot and entered his van. He turned on the radio – there was a catchy song playing and he couldn't help but start humming its tunes.

_The Bay Harbor Butcher is dead and buried, dealt with._

It was exactly at that moment that the cell phone decided to ring.

_Deb._

_My sister has a really awkward sense of timing._

"Yes, Deb?"

"Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to come pick me up."

"Ahh…sorry."

"Jerk."

Dexter remained in silence, trying to connect whatever connection had gone off line in his brain – why was he supposed to have picked her up?

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"No…of course not..."

"So?"

_God dammit! Dinner at my place with Deb! How could I forget?! Scratch all my previous remarks. _

_Universe: 2__ – Dexter: 0._

_Not tonight, not again…not another night._

"So?"

_Stale. _

"Can't we meet there instead?"

"Why?"

"Emergency… Last minute shopping."

_L__ies keep coming out of my mouth._

"Shopping?"

Dexter sighed.

"Yeah. My fridge is empty. Can't make dinner without food."

"Oh. Okay, I'll meet you at your place at around 8pm, then."

"Dinner will be awaiting you…as will I."

"Wow…"

Dexter ended the call without further explanations.

_I'm disappointed. My plans are ruined for the second night in a row – all that's left is __Rita wanting me to stay with her tomorrow night._

Of course tasting freedom gave him great satisfaction, but that only made it more peremptory for him to finish the business at hand.

_I need to…kill…._

_Right now __I have to focus on following that bastard in the most discrete manner possible._

He had been very careful: sure the Bay Harbor Butcher was dead and buried…dealt with…but who could guarantee the FBI wasn't keeping a close watchful eye on the police department and its entire staff? Just in case.

Presently he simply had to focus on the matter at hand. In half an hour he would have to go home and start dinner.

_The chance is gone; Deb will be waiting and if dinner isn't ready by the time she arrives, she'll insist until I come up with a proper excuse for my oddity. _

Dexter drove away from Timothy's vehicle, making a right turn after the lights went green.

_Enjoy your last day on earth, Timothy Pierce._

-------------------------------

Debra arrived at the appointed time. Dinner was almost ready. They both sat while waiting, holding the cold beer bottles Dexter had just taken out of the fridge.

"How was your day, Deb?"

Debra grinned.

"Better than yours, I'd said. You look hellish."

Dexter smirked devilishly.

"Ever the charming lady."

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to be charming, Dexter. You're my brother, not my knight in shining armour."

"Ah! Busted!"

The two siblings took a sip of beer simultaneously.

"Seriously, is something the matter? I feel you…disconnected as of late…"

_She is clever, my sister. _

_It has been harder than usual to connect. There's so much going on at the police station. _

_There was Laguerta back at the cemetery – no real harm done, but that was close. She won't stop examining and investigating. _

_Everyone is somewhat looking over their shoulder. And there are two reasons for that: one is the fact that "we" harboured a killer in our ranks for so long – fortunately he was found – _Dexter grimaced inwardly at the thought _- and the second is that everyone feels observed. Is the FBI really gone? Will they ever go away? _

Not that Dexter was _that _concerned. He always knew how to watch his back - from his first killing, in fact. And, as he reasoned, if he wasn't caught, then no one was chasing him hard enough. It was that thought that made him want to kill again once Lila was taken care off.

"Well, so much is going on…"

"Yeah, I know. Lila, Butcher Doakes, Laguerta and her frenzied antics…"

_It is at times like this that Debra truly freaks me out. What's up with this choice of adjectives and the quick smart-ass talk?_

"I find it odd. The effect this had on you. You're also glad Lila's gone, right? After all she did? That's not nostalgia, is it? The sex wasn't that great, was it?"

Dexter raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Not nostalgia."

"Hmm…I see…what about…"

The look in Dexter's face and the hint of a "Debra!" made her stop. Debra giggled.

"That look: priceless. I know you love Rita and Lila was just a spur of the moment, no worries. You're a man and she's a total slut."

_Lila. I __don't think I had truly thought of her in a while. I think of Doakes and her memories come to mind - like a spider web that I quickly brush away. _

_Why would I__ think of her? I have no regrets: Lila had to die. She wasn't a trophy. If I had such human feelings I would say I killed her for revenge, but as it is it was simply a matter of self-preservation. She was dangerous, too dangerous._

"Usually you don't connect with that sort of thing. You just keep on being same old Dexter no matter what…"

Dexter smiled sadly.

"Yeah, well…I don't know how to explain it myself."

Debra patted her brother's shoulder sympathetically.

"You're only human, like the rest of us."

_Am I? Human like the rest of mankind? __What is this? This bittersweet sensation…_

Dexter simply shrugged.

"I guess." Dexter looked away. "Dinner is ready."

"Good! I'm starving, all this melodramatic talk made my stomach really start to rumble."

-------------------------------

Debra had stayed long enough to help Dexter clean and wash the dishes. When she left, Dexter started feeling restless for no apparent reason.

_Something's wrong. Was it something I said? Something I did? Am I missing some __detail? It was an uneventful day._

_Call it a gut feeling.__ An instinctive reaction. What's wrong? _

Dexter settled down and turned off the lights.

_I'd better rest. Tomorrow I won't be able to afford such luxury as__ having a good night's sleep: I have unfinished business._

As Dexter took off his clothes he still had the same vague feeling – something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Finally he dismissed these thoughts and fell asleep.

_Who is this naughty person? __Evil deeds never go unpunished._


	4. Lying in Wait

Notes:

- A very special thanks to Beregond5 because without his encouragement and help these stories would never have been brought to you all. And also my thanks to my dear friend Shicashula for reading my chapters, offering suggestions and urging me to go on.

And now without further delay:

**Lying in W****ait**

_Defying human nature might have been troublesome for someone who wasn't like me. _

_My life has always been a sequence of carefully planned moments__… _

-------------------------------

Dexter rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off some of his sleepiness.

"What's the location? I'll be right there."

He still lay in bed for some time, even though he was already fully awake. 

For the first couple of minutes, he had dwelled over the strange sensation he had experienced the previous night. It wasn't there anymore, so he finally just dismissed it.

_It was just a sensation – maybe a reflection of how excited I am._

He was eagerly anticipating _that _moment - savouring in advance the joyful freedom that would follow.

Nevertheless, his enthusiasm hadn't deprived him of blissful sleep during the night. And he had awakened, he stayed there, lying on his stomach, enjoying the quietness of early morning. 

Unfortunately, there had been that call. Several minutes had passed in the meantime. Now it was time to go to work.

…_Sometimes you just have to take a chance. I'm ready to try different things, different approaches. _

_Enough day-dreaming and joyful thinking._

-------------------------------

"Hey, Dexter."

Dexter shrugged away the thoughts crossing his mind. He realised he had been staring at his instruments for God knew how long, hovering over the corpse.

A somewhat heavy hand landed on Dexter's shoulder. 

"Sorry, Angel."

"I know the guy isn't going anywhere, but we want to wrap this up and take him down to the morgue."

_Denying __my desires leads to anxiety, anxiety leads to absentmindedness, and that might lead to otherwise avoidable mistakes._

Dexter shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

"You're right. I was just…"

Dexter observed with mixed feelings as Angel knelt before him and patted his arm in a friendly, reassuring manner.

"Is it Rita? We're men; we're buddies. You can tell me."

_Oh! H__e thinks I have some romantic problem._

Dexter grabbed Angel's shoulder vigorously.

"I know, buddy. I know. But there's no problem in that department…"

And then someone else knelt by the pair.

"What's up guys?"

"Erm…nothing." – said Dexter.

"I always enjoy some male bonding."

The other two men got on their feet.

"Coming from you, Masuka, that's creepy."

"Angel, Angel, don't dismiss something you've never tried."

"Oh, but I do, I completely and utterly dismiss it. And I'm not the only one…right, Dexter?"

"Right. Sorry, Masuka, but you're on your own."

Dexter and Angel walked away.

"Guys? Guys! You know I was only kidding!"

"Sure, Masuka, sure."

_Saved by Masuka – what are the odds?_

Masuka started to follow the other two, but he was stopped by Lieutenant Laguerta.

"Masuka, finished with your analysis?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant. All packed up."

"Angel, Dexter? All finished?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant. We were just discussing timelines and…stuff. Right, Dexter?"

"Right. Well, I'm off to the lab."

"I'll meet you there, buddy.

"Later, Dex."

"Later, guys."

_Okay, that was weird_

-------------------------------

_And on the third day – make it night – He shall rise again._

_Life is so fragile__ and unstable, filled with uncertainty. Every breath might be the last one. I don't empathise with my victims; I can't. I feel nothing of the sort. But, if I could, I don't think I would. Every one of them deserved their fate._

_Because I take my time. Because I make sure. I can never be wrong. I have no doubts._

Finally. After the last excruciating days, the long awaited night finally comes. No Rita, kids, Debra or bowling. Just Dexter and his tools; Dexter and his blood slides; Dexter and his prey.

_Here I am._

Shortly after finishing his shift at the lab, Dexter went home. He stayed there for a while, leaving only to have dinner with Rita and the kids. With the excuse of working in a night shift because of a new case, where his expertise was needed and numerous blood spatters just _had_ to be tested right away, he managed to leave Rita's house soon after eleven. He read to the kids till they all fell asleep and then finally kissed Rita goodnight. 

_This is a constant in my life: lying, deceiving. It's not like I have issues with this situation – it's necessary._

Already sitting behind the wheel he smiled warmly and waved the woman goodbye.

_Tonight's the night. I feel it in my whole body. It can't pass tonight, no more waiting. I need this, I really do._

With a final smile, Dexter started the car and left.

_I have no remorse, no sorrow. I am what I am. I am who I am. _

_I'm Dexter Morgan. _

Dexter had took his time while studying his target, and by now he had come to know most of Timothy's hangout places. 

The strange feeling of the previous night was long gone from memory, and Dexter felt in control again.

_Friday night in Miami__. Where can the bastard be?_

After some seconds of hesitation, Dexter decided trying Timothy's house first. This was the obvious first choice. 

The drive wasn't too long. Timothy lived in a safe and quiet part of town. 

Dexter knew there weren't any surveillance cameras in the area. He was free to go as he pleased. 

He drove past Timothy's house once.

_No lights, it seems. Did Timothy decide to enjoy the pleasures Miami has to offer on a Friday night? That would be very unkind of him. We have an appointment tonight… _

_I've been waiting to meet him face to face for so long._

_I'm on the edge__. I don't feel like tracking him across town waiting for an opportunity._

Dexter finally parked in an alley between two houses across the street. 

_Maybe he's already asleep._

At that time, there were no passers-by. 

Dexter unfastened his seat belt and took a long deep breath. He thought the absence of movement and lights to indicate that his target wasn't on the premises. In any case, it was worth checking.

He might as well take a look around.

_But__, just in case he _is_ fast asleep, I can always come back to the car and pick up what I need. I don't have to carry the extra weight for the moment._

Absentmindedly, Dexter prepared the syringe and placed it inside his right pocket. He stored the narcotic inside its box. He left the box, the other needles and his tools' bag on the car's back seat. With a small smirk, he put on his black gloves. 

_I was waiting impatiently._

Feeling confident, Dexter took a look around before exiting the vehicle and closing the door quietly. Once at the vehicle's side, he stopped and looked around one last time.

_No one in sight._

There was a small distance between houses. In one of his last night-outs before tonight, Dexter had managed to certify himself that there were no surprises of the canine type lying in wait there. Timothy didn't come out as the type of person to have a dog anyway. 

Dexter crossed the street and walked around the small wall till he reached the back of the house. There, he stopped. He was in a small alley and he couldn't walk any further. This was actually the perfect spot. 

_Now the most difficult part._

Using the tree that stood by the wall for support, he climbed his way to the top. He landed on the inner side without so much as a sound. He listened. Everything was silent.

Dexter started to walk around the house. Neither light nor sound came from the seemingly empty house. Next, Dexter took up some tools from his side pocket and forced the door open. There was still silence.

The intruder entered every room. He didn't disturb anything. He just watched and registered his surroundings in the moonlight.

_No luck. It was too much to hope that Mr. Pierce would __be sleeping home on a Friday night. _

_I'm disappointed, I won't deny it. I was really looking forward to it. _

Dexter retreated. Pausing outside the door, he looked at his watch.

_Midnight. A fine hour. _

He continued on. Reaching the wall, he climbed it and, supporting his body weight on his arms, he scanned his surroundings before settling on the top of the wall and jumping to the ground. 

_No use driving around aimlessly. I'm going home and rest.__ Or at least try, rest won't come easily tonight. Damned bad luck._

Dexter opened the door and settled behind the wheel. It was then that he felt a light sting of pain on the right side of his neck. At the next instant, he felt faint. He was rapidly losing consciousness.

Just before his eyes rolled back he had the time to register a smirking face through the mirror.

_Oh no…_


	5. The Unforeseen Threat

Notes:

This chapter marks the beginning of my cooperation with yayme, who was kind enough to b-read this for me. My thanks go to her.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, reviews are welcome.

So without further delay…

**The Unforeseen Threat**

_**The previous night**_

Timothy watched the car disappear. He had watched the car following him in the past weeks. For now he wasn't sure if it was a cop or one of his victims' close relations.

He was sure he had been careful and even though disappearance cases might be pilling up over someone's desk, he had been clever in choosing his victims. He had turned his interest towards preys that no one would look for long after their deaths.

Tonight he would enjoy his deeds without the pressure of having to evade _that_ car's pursuit. And tomorrow night: he would deal with it. He was tired of this charade. Ever since he knew he was being watched he had watched back. He had followed his pursuer and now he was on top of his game. He knew things that he, whoever that man was, didn't.

He wouldn't get caught, no matter what.

He was curious. Tonight, once he had accomplished that level of ecstasy that followed a recent rape-kill he would return to that house and this time he would stick around and watch his pursuer. He wouldn't act yet, but soon…

--

_**Tonight**_

_**Oh no**__**…**_

How long did it pass? How far did they travel?

_Did I die? Am I lying in pieces in the depths of the ocean?_

In the backseat of the car, Dexter's eyes rolled as his mind oscillated between unconsciousness and awareness. He only registered the diminishing sight of urban lights, the never ending lines of palm-trees.

And then, nothing.

It was a dreamless sleep. On the bottom of a pit, echo reverberating inside his ears. He could be dead – he could be dying as we speak, slaughtered, like he had done so many times before. His victim's lashes opened briefly to be permanently closed soon after.

He could have been dying at that very moment. But God - or whoever governs the world from high above - had different plans.

--

Dexter groaned inwardly. As he started regaining consciousness, that voice – some call it survival instinct – told him not to move a muscle, not to open his eyes, to just listen and assess the situation. His head felt heavy. He knew he had been knocked unconscious, probably with his own tranquiliser. But despite the sickness he was experiencing, along with a thirst he didn't remember ever feeling before, his dark passenger - his voice - sounded all too clear.

He knew who had done it.

_Caught like an amateur, a __mere beginner. How pathetic is that? _

_But I'm alive. _

The thirst was the worse – his lips felt like dried paper. Carefully, Dexter ran his tongue over his upper lip.

_Hmm. Not too bad._

Then his lower lip - that hurt. Now he could feel blood in his mouth. His lip felt swollen and moving it was painful. Actually moving his neck was painful. A river of flames ran through the left side of his face, even though he had his head against a cold wall.

He remained still for another couple of minutes trying to figure out as much as possible about his body's condition and the place he was without opening his eyes. He felt numb and cold; he must be lying on a concrete floor.

_Fuck.__ Fuck this. Fuck him._

_When __did Timothy start preying on me? This had been planned – no spur of the moment, the time and opportunity._

Slowly the last events of the night rolled through Dexter's head.

_I was sloppy. _

_But mourning over past events won't help. So now I have to __get myself out of this mess, and then…finish the deal._

It was then that Dexter tried to move one arm, then the other, his torso. It proved too much, because he couldn't help a faint groan escaping his lips as blood returned to his stiff limbs.

"Good, you're awake."

Silently Dexter rolled over himself as well as the handcuffs allowed. Besides aiming at comfort, it was the best way to test how safely he had been secured. He was handcuffed to a strong pipe by a window – no chance of getting free by using brute force alone. He crossed his legs and tried to sit as comfortable as possible.

_This won't be easy._

"Tsk, tsk. I'm not an amateur, you know. Those are secure, as secure as steel handcuffs can be. Unless you don't mind breaking an arm…or two…in a futile attempt to free yourself…" - Timothy held a small key on his bloody hand - "you'll need this."

Fighting the nausea and the pain Dexter gazed at his captor.

"Are we clear, Dexter Morgan?"

"We're clear, Timothy Pierce."

Timothy smiled almost warmly, and altogether dangerously.

"Good."

At that moment, for the first time, Dexter could finally discern what he unwillingly and unwittingly had gotten himself into.

_How long since he climbed up the steps, from rapist to cold blooded killer?_

Timothy held a piece of meat and a small hatchet on his right hand. He sat on the edge of a bloody table. He seemed completely relaxed and in control.

Dexter moved his neck to the sides, back and forth, carefully. The pain was subsiding to be sure, but it was still too great to allow his inner voice to come up with something tangible, something that could actually be used in this situation.

Realisation hit him hard.

_I'm trapped. _

_It's funny. In a way it is hilarious. This is how even Doakes must have felt.__ Divine punishment, perhaps?_

_I'm still me, nevertheless._

At that moment a wicked smirk formed in Dexter's lips. He eyed the man angrily but remained silent.

"You seem to have become aware of your reality. Good." Timothy pointed towards Dexter's bruises. "Sorry about that. As you can easily imagine, I wasn't pleased when I discovered who you really were."

Despite the pain spreading throughout his face Dexter's smirk widened enough to open the small cut on his upper lip. He ran his tongue over it, tasting fresh blood, while keeping his eyes on his captor. "I should be the one apologizing. After all, I was unaware of who _you_ were in reality. I didn't do my homework. Seems like I left some minor details to chance."

The two men held each other gaze for several seconds. But then Timothy looked away. Did he get bored?

Or could it be something else?

_Oh. Finally an opening, perhaps?_

Timothy turned his back on Dexter. He hadn't expected that piercing gaze, that utter emptiness and wickedness. Was he even human? But he too was an outcast- so why did that gaze make him so uncomfortable? Not that it mattered in the least.

"I borrowed one of your tools, hope you don't mind. Really neat."

Composing himself Timothy held Dexter's electric knife on his hand. There were small pieces of muscle and blood covering the blade.

"I was in a bit of a rampage, really, when I realized who you were." Timothy left the utensils behind and walked the short distance to reach Dexter. There he bended, making eye contact. To Dexter's surprise, there it was again – the other man flinched. It had been a second, or less, but it was there, written on his face: fear.

_Don't get cocky, Dexter. This is surely a good sign, but if you don't manage to get these handcuffs unfastened, it will be meaningless._

"The rumours are true. See, I heard this story about how the Bay Harbor Butcher had been caught…well…if one can call that _being caught_. One of us in the police ranks? Sounded wonderful to me. Actually, I wished I had known him, talked to him. That Doakes character seemed really interesting."

_Doakes would have put a bullet between your eyes._

"Dexter, please try imagining my surprise when I realized I could do it, right now." Timothy's face became sterner. "And imagine my disappointment when I realized the one man I admired, sort of, had been hunting me down like an animal, trying to corner me."

Timothy returned to the table and turned his back on Dexter once again. "For the past three years I've been watching my back – I was convinced I had made no mistakes; hadn't left anything to chance." Timothy looked over his shoulder. "Because of that, I was surprised when I noticed someone stalking me some time ago. I thought to myself – a rookie cop or something like that, someone trying to get lucky. See, I don't do men, and because of that I decided to wait and see."

_Interesting. _

"I have to hand it to you, Timothy, you're one clever sicko."

"Flattery will take you a long way, Dex. I can call you that, right? Seeing how close we're becoming and all that."

"Sure."

"Sorry to have put you in such an uncomfortable position, but we need to talk, don't you think? As I was saying – imagine my…frustration when I found these in your car, the car that you had parked so close to my house. I realised who I was dealing with. Instead of this tender flesh here," – at that Timothy held by the hair the head of a young woman – "it could be me chopped to bits, killed in my own house, perhaps."

Dexter remained still; expressionless. "That was the general plan."

Timothy laughed heartedly. "Oh, I wasn't guessing. It takes a killer to understand another. And see where your big plan landed you? Tsk, tsk, careless. Foolish, foolish, Dexter. Because you think you're hunting down small game, and all the people you've killed so far were nothing but dumb culprits. You thought you could easily outsmart a fellow killer. Wrong, Dexter, wrong."

"Touché." Dexter smiled candidly and bowed his head. When he looked towards Timothy again, his candid smile had been replaced by a hateful mask.

_I __really want to kill you, Timothy…_

"At first I considered that truly unforgivable. I really wanted to kill you, Dexter. To turn you into little pieces of flesh, watch your blood spill and cover this table, feed you to the 'gators and sharks that occasionally patrol these swamps…"

Timothy dropped the head into a big bucket filled with viscera, skin and bone.

"The long drive helped me relax."

"I'm glad."

Timothy snarled. "I bet you are, Dexter Morgan. You've put together quite the act. You're no different from me."

Dexter smirked. "Oh? Really?"

Timothy moved his head and finger in a dismissive way. "No, no, no. This won't do. You're making me angry again, and I'm sure you won't like what happens when I become angry…your ribs, your face- that was just a warm up."

"Timothy, I'm going to cut you into little pieces, you know that, don't you? I saw you flinch, you think you're so great with your little "I don't do men", but really, you _are_ small game."

"Says the handcuffed killer to the one holding his life in his hands."

Timothy's rant was interrupted by a buzzing sound. It came from Dexter's pocket. Timothy reached inside and held a cell phone in his hand.

"It's "Deb", should I answer?"

Dexter disguised his surprise with an emotionless smile.

"It won't go well for you, if you get her involved. You can die quickly or slowly and painfully, Timothy."

"Fuck you."

"Tsk tsk. You're the one in control here, Timothy? Losing your calm like that? It doesn't bode well for you…partner…Fine, I'll be a good boy and play along. I'd like to answer that call if you don't mind."

Timothy simply pressed the "cancel" button.

Dexter could see he had managed to upset the other man. There was a different glow in Timothy's eyes.

"Play with fire and you'll get burn, Dex. You're one insolent son of a bitch."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm afraid answering the phone won't be possible. And I'm afraid our friendship has just died. Let's play."

"Are you a coward, Timothy?"

"Why don't we find that out…"

"Goddamit, Dexter. Why won't you pick up?"

"Any luck, Deb?"

"No, Angel. He's not home, he's not at Rita's, _and_ he just cancelled my phone call."

"Well, we could really use his expertise, but this can wait till the morning."

"I know, but this is not like him. This is not like my brother."

"He's probably busy…"

"Yeah."


	6. The Undeniable Truth

Notes:

Notes: Well, all good things come to an end. Next issue will contain the last chapter and the prologue. Thanks to yayme for b-reading this. Enjoy (and please review).

**The Undeniable Truth**

"**Are you a coward, Timothy?"**

"**Why don't we find that out…"**

_If this goes wrong, i__f I lose this "game"…_

Timothy approached Dexter and kneeled before him. With a smirk he tilted his head and whispered in Dexter's ear, "Sweet dreams, Dex."

Timothy's fist hit Dexter, knocking him unconscious.

--

"_The person you're trying to reach is not available at the moment, Please leave your message after the…"_

"Dexter, where the fuck are you? I know it's your day off, but for Jesus fucking sake, call me back. Dammit."

"Still no answer, Deb?"

"No. It's odd, Angel. His boat is at the marine. Rita hasn't heard from him..."

"Come on, Deb. You're overreacting. He's a grown man. He knows how to take care of himself."

"Yeah, I know. He's also an asshole that doesn't pick up his cell."

--

Dexter couldn't say precisely how many hours had passed. Suddenly an intense bright light hurt his eyes. He tried to shut them tightly to block out the light, but after a few seconds the pain became too strong. He had to move.

With great effort he moved one leg after the other. Before opening his eyes, he heard the sound of glass hitting concrete.

It was broad daylight outside - maybe noon – and the sun was shining bright.

It was hot; the air felt heavy.

Dexter could feel sweat running down his spine, his forehead, everywhere.

And he had just knocked down the only water he had - a single glass of water left by his side.

_Fuck. _

Timothy had handcuffed his left hand to a metal tube attached to the wall. That hand was the only thing prohibited him from moving freely and getting out of the shed. Still, it was a great obstacle.

_It's not like breaking it is a real __option. It would hurt like hell and there's no guarantee I'd actually be able to free myself._

Dexter looked around.

_This is one crappy shed. My tools are lying around over that table. If only I could reach them. I could get rid of the fucking handcuff and find my way out. Then it would be a matter of ambushing that guy and finishing what I started._

_Damm__it, Dexter, when will you learn?_

Dexter had been left alone - his thirst growing, intensifying as the water spilled on the ground slowly evaporated.

_I'm growing weak. All my muscles are stiff. I have to get out, I must get out. Before he loses his fear, before I _do_ become weaker than him._

Lost in his thoughts, Dexter drifted into a dreamless sleep soon enough.

--

Hours went by. And then the loud noise of metal hitting metal: Timothy was back.

With difficulty Dexter opened his eyes in time to see Timothy dropping some heavy package on the table. A body bag – and it wasn't empty. Dexter glanced at the rapist quizzically while Timothy smirked maliciously.

"Welcome back to the living, Dex. I brought you company. You're just going to love this."

Dexter rubbed his wrists. He was feeling both tired and distressed. But the voice was back, and the voice told him that he mustn't allow his enemy to know just how worn out he was actually feeling.

_As long as I'm defying, even if it's just through words, I'll be safe. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm afraid of this Timothy guy – but crazy people are unpredictable._

_If I keep my cool, it'll provide me time to think – to find an opportunity to strike back._

"Forgive me the lack of a standing ovation."

Timothy's smirk widened. "Tsk, tsk. You wouldn't be that sarcastic if you knew who I brought back with me."

"Oh? I should get up; maybe give you a big hug? It's the human thing to do, eh?" Dexter leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "I'm not impressed."

Timothy crossed his arms nonchalantly. "Too bad you're not interested. I'm sure you're the one person who _she_ would wish to spend her last moments with."

Dexter opened his eyes and looked deeply into the other man's; a dreadful thought forming in his mind.

_Not Deb – she wouldn't fall for it, not after Bri- Rudy._

_Rita, then?_

Timothy watched the serial killer carefully. What he saw in his face, that little vein in the other man's forehead betrayed his thoughts. Unclear. Timothy laughed. "Good. I got your attention once again. Let's end this sorrowful attempt of outwitting me, shall we? You're in no position to do _that_."

"Okay. What exactly is it you want from me, Timothy? You've got me, you have the upper hand, so now what? Are you going to kill me?"

Timothy pulled a chair and sat down, resting his arms over the chair's back. "That isn't in my plans. Well, this wasn't either, but since we're here..." The man rested his head over his arms and held Dexter's gaze. "I want you to watch."

_Fuck. He sounds a lot more confident now, setting some distance between us made him feel better._

Dexter glanced at the body bag. It seemed... too still. He noticed blood dripping from the bag, forming a small crimson pool on the concrete. It was too large a quantity – whoever was inside the bag was long gone. Nothing he could do to save whoever the bag contained. Dexter's every muscle tightened. He was chained – defeated.

"Why? I won't be disgusted or scared. Where's the thrill?"

"You chased me, and yet I got away. I caught you, and now you'll see your prey perform his own sadistic ritual.

"When we spoke before, I realised that killing you wouldn't add to anything: I wouldn't be satisfied and you wouldn't give me the pleasure of begging to be spared.

"The truth is, Dexter, you're not human, you don't feel a thing, do you? So how can I win against such a monster?" Timothy smiled. "You're not immune to humiliation. You have to win, to fulfil your purpose. I'll take it all from you – and then even someone like _you_ will lose.

"I won't brag about it, but you and I both know, the moment I leave this room it'll never be the same.

"So? How do you like my plan? I'll be gone from your life, but I'll leave you a memory for all eternity."

It was unnoticeable to Timothy, but his words had more than the desired effect. Something snapped.

An evil coldness filled Dexter's mind. Timothy was right – he had to win, to fulfil his "purpose". He had no feelings, but he knew one thing - his undeniable truth. He was better, stronger. And Timothy was small game. He would kill Timothy before the night began.

One thought repossessed his entire being: kill, kill, kill. It was his instinct kicking in – not revenge, sorrow, or fear, but who he was, was taking control again. And now...

_Calm, cool. _

_Everything can wait but this. I'm a man with a mission. I'll kill this son of a bitch today._

Timothy threw a water bottle in Dexter's direction. "Here, I don't want you to die of thirst."

Dexter clumsily grabbed the bottle with his free hand. Bringing his free hand towards the handcuffed one, he opened the bottle and then lifted it as high as the handcuff allowed it. After taking a big sip, he stopped and looked towards Timothy.

"Now, if you could just took this handcuff off, we could get down to business. Is it really so fair to toy with me while I'm handicapped?"

Timothy smirked. "You're all set..."

Dexter returned the smirk with an innocent smile. "Not quite. Excuse me, but nature is calling. Under the Geneva Convention, all prisoners are entitled to have their human rights preserved, right?"

Timothy tilted his head, imitating a laugh. "Funny."

"Seriously, I need to do it. Want me to do it right here on the spot?" asked Dexter.

It was at that moment that they heard something heavy hitting the glass window above Dexter. He barely had time to cover his face before shards of glass covered his back and the floor around him.

Timothy grabbed a gun he had concealed under his shirt. "What the fuck?"

Dexter shook himself to get rid of the glass, not before some of them scratched his back, leaving trails of blood. "You're really clever. Someone followed you, you moron."

Timothy pressed the gun's safety. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious, motherfucker."

_Shit. Being saved might be good, but the Bay Harbor Butcher's tools are covering the damn table. And being found in the same room with them wouldn't be good. _

_Plus, I want to kill this bastard myself._

Timothy covered the small distance that separated him from the door. Carefully, he opened it.

There was no one in sight. But there was definitely someone close by. While the rapist took a peek through the half opened door, Dexter felt someone metallic and light fall on his legs.

_What?_

Dexter grabbed the piece of metal with his free hand; it was twisted and it could serve as... a lock pick.

Timothy wasn't looking. Dexter simply inserted the piece of metal in the handcuffs lock and started working on it.

Timothy glanced up. He saw movement from the shed's corner. Looking towards Dexter, he made a quick decision. He ran outside and chased after the intruder.

Dexter had just opened the handcuff when he heard three gunshots. There wasn't any time to waste. Even though his legs felt stiff, he had to run and hope he would make it to the safety of the trees before it was too late. Now that he had been discovered, Timothy wouldn't hesitate to kill him. And Dexter couldn't simply leave.

He grabbed a piece of wire from the table, as steps were heard close to the door. Without hesitation, Dexter jumped through the window and started running. He didn't stop even when he penetrated the safety of the trees.

He circled around and finally settled down, resting his back against a tree. If he looked over his shoulder he could see the shed's door at a distance.

_I made it. _

Dexter watched as the rapist reentered the shed. His clothes were stained. Soon the man would notice and then he'd come outside and start searching.

The sun was going down fast.

"Hey. It was just a hunter, for whatever reason he threw that rock, but..." Timothy noticed Dexter's departure. "...he's gone now. Fuck! You son of a bitch!! How did he manage to escape?! How the hell did he get free?!".

Timothy looked around desperately. It was only a one-room shed – Dexter had clearly left.

One thing was for sure – he had to find the bastard, and find him fast. He knew the serial killer wouldn't simply go away. He wouldn't rest until he had finished – finished him.

The time to play was long gone – only one of them could remain alive.

Timothy had to find Dexter and kill him before the last rays of sun died away.

"Dexter!"


	7. Free Style

**Free Style**

The time to play was long gone - only one of them could remain alive. Timothy had to find Dexter and kill him before the last rays of sun died.

"Dexter!"

-------------------------------

Dexter breathe was uneven. He rubbed his legs in an attempt to make them feel less stiff. Timothy yelled another time before a "Fuck this shit!" and settling down by the cabin's door. Soon enough Timothy re-entered the cabin. He still had a card to play: The corpse √ Dexter would come to see it, to make sure it wasn't his sister. That he could be sure of, he could count on. And when Dexter returned... Would he kill Dexter? Timothy wasn't sure; he was angry, very angry again. Still, Dexter was Dexter.

Meanwhile, for the moment, Dexter's concerns were far from being turned into the dead corpse lying inside the cabin. He would go and see who it was, but first┘ Dexter had a weapon, but how was he supposed to approach his captor and use it? There was perhaps another way.

_Fucking Hell. What a mess._ Dexter felt the little piece of metal inside his pocket. What the hell just happened? Someone had help free him. There was a small amount of relieve in being free, but the larger portion of Dexter's thoughts was disturbed. The thought of an intruder, one that might have heard more than advised if Dexter wanted to keep his life going as it had gone so far. So he had to find "him".

_Think, Dexter, think!!! Who?_

Finally Dexter got on his feet.

_No time for musings now. I have to go past one obstacle at a time. First things first. I need to get my hands on a gun; then I'll think about the rest._

Timothy had been gone for a while. Dexter knew he might he hiding, lurking to see him coming, but he had to risk it, to risk it all, or lose it all. That was the bottom line, that was the deal now.

_This is a good opportunity, I should take advantage._

Dexter walked around the cabin for a while, at a distance. Carefully he approached the window he had used to escape, and half-bended he took a look inside. He shouldn't have been too concerned about the possibility of Timothy watching him while he returned to the cabin. After all, the rapist was too busy with the dismemberment of the young woman he had brought to the cabin. The head was placed neatly on the counter, her face facing the window, blood dripping from her severed neck. Her eyes were opened; her face had a frightened expression.

_Not Debra._

It was then that Dexter felt himself observed. There it was to be sure. A pair of eyes amid the bushes, staring right at him.

_Hello._

There was no time to waste. Dexter looked towards Timothy. The rapist was chopping and piling meat and bone inside his bucket. _Food for the_ _Everglade's wild beasts._

Dexter got up. Without a second thought, one concern about the possibility of being seen by Timothy, Dexter started running in the intruder's direction. Suddenly his angel; his "friend" was on the move.

_Fuck. I have to catch him. I really have to._

Dexter's legs were growing tired, but now definitely wasn't the time to stop. He was so absorbed on the chase that he didn't noticed Timothy dropping the bucket by the cabin's door, blood slipping everywhere. Even though the light had diminished considerably, the rapist observed as his prey run towards the bushes once again...

"Dexter! So there you are!"

It was turning into a road show now. Taking a look back, Dexter saw Timothy holding the gun, running into the trees. By now the run had made the men circle around the house. Dexter stopped on his tracks before stepping on the hunter's head.

_Here it is._

Dexter looked around, this time there was no shadow, no glare, no nothing √ his friend had disappeared in thin air, and then - Running steps, heavy breathing. Dexter bent and reached for the hunter's rifle.

"Drop it!"

Dexter dropped the rifle beside the hunter once again. He slowly, deliberately, got on his feet, with a hint of a snarl lingering on his lips.

"Timothy."

The rapist was smiling. On his right hand he held a gun, pointed directly at Dexter's heart.

"Smart move, Dexter. Clever. I've been wondering how you managed to get free."

Dexter took a step towards Timothy.

"Nu-uh. Stay right there."

"You should point the gun at my head, right between the eyes, in a 'you won't get out of here alive' manner. That will be far more intimidating."

"Lose the cocky attitude. Put these on."

_Fuck!!! He won't come a second time, and this fucking guy. I can't be put on chains again - that'll be the end of me._

Timothy had thrown the handcuffs. Dexter placed one ring around his left wrist. He looked deep into Timothy's eyes and smiled wickedly. This time Timothy didn't flinched noticeable, instead he walked towards Dexter.

Dexter was losing. No.

_Game over._


	8. Last Man Standing

**Last Man Standing**

Timothy had thrown the handcuffs. Dexter placed one ring around his left wrist. He looked deep into Timothy's eyes and smiled wickedly. This time Timothy didn't flinched noticeable, instead he walked towards Dexter.

Dexter was losing. No.

_Game over._

´"Whats wrong, Dexter? Ashamed I outwitted you once again?" Timothy snarled.

Deliberately slow, Dexter s eyes remained focused on Timothy s while he placed the second ring around his right wrist.

With the gun still directed at Dexter, Timothy pointed at his unfastened wrist.

"Are you afraid to die, Dexter?"

_Is this it?_

_I probably would be afraid...if I could...as it is it seems like there is only nothingness...or else...anger..._

Still stalling Dexter cocked his head to one side.

"Not really, everybody dies. And everybody knows it. People wish it was later rather than sooner. But how often does one get to choose when time has come? Are you going to kill me now?"

"Lock the fucking handcuff!"

It was Dexter s time to snarl. "Make me."

Timothy grimaced. "I wish it hadn t come to this."

There was a gunshot. The impact threw Dexter to the ground.

_Fuck..._

Breathing was hard. Consciousness was slipping. Dexter tasted warm blood in his mouth.

Then there was a second gunshot. Timothy ducked while wildly trying to perceive where that bullet had come from. He turned to where Dexter had landed. There he was motionless.

"Fuck! What the hell!"

Darkness was closing in, after taking another look, Timothy hurried along, crawling towards the cabin, muttering.

"Fuck, hes dead. He s really dead!"

It was too late now. Dexter Morgan, the Bay Harbour Butcher just died.

_I feel myself falling...falling...falling into darkness._

**_To Be Continued_**


End file.
